Fallen Knight
by Peace Zombie
Summary: 100 Theme Challenge. Steve-centric and not all themes are related to each other. May or may not contain slash. Some AU. Enjoy.


**Disclaimer**: I do not own the Resident Evil/Biohazard franchise. Any of the characters, organizations, and other affiliations hereby mentioned is to the copyrights of Capcom unless stated otherwise; I do not make any profit off of this, and it is purely for entertainment purposes.

Theme 1: Introduction.

Tired, groggy and in pain—that's all he really knew about his situation. It was like a bad stomach ache, headache and sleep deprivation all rolled into one; he could practically feel blood gushing from his stomach, not exactly sure why it was happening in the first place and all he could really make out whenever he managed to bring up the strength to open his eyes were dim lights up ahead.

Where ever he was, it was freezing. Damp. Not exactly as bright as he would've liked for it to be. Every time he would take a breath it felt like he was getting stabbed repeatedly in the lungs and with every move he would try to make felt like he was on _fire_. So he laid there, slump against a wall and struggling for breath, head tilted downward towards his naked bodice save for the remainder of his pants.

The realization that death was imminent hadn't occurred to him immediately. In fact, the thought of who he was and what happened was on his mind—some serious shit had to of had gone down if there was a gigantic hole coming from the middle of his stomach to his back and that he couldn't remember really anything about himself, other than the aforementioned. It was worrying and he should have been freaking out but he was just so _tired_ of _trying_ for reasons he himself didn't know.

He must've been out of it for a while for he could've sworn that there was some movement from the corner of his eye. Fingers twitching ever so slightly he couldn't bring himself to do anything but lay there as the sounds of boots stepping against concrete flooring got louder and louder—each step in a tantalising rhythm towards him, and all he wanted to do was look up and call out for help.

His 'help' would come eventually. He could make out the outline of boots beside his right thigh and there was a hand placed lightly onto his shoulder; it felt like a thousand pounds although he knew the person was trying to be gentle.

"There's some movement." The rough voice of the person beside him was followed by a loud click as if he were speaking into a walkie-talkie. There was a glove-clad hand pressed against his chest before removed once again, "He's breathing but barely."

The hand placed on his shoulders lifted and was now gripping his chin as his head was lifted upward, his auburn bangs covering his eyes. The man swept his bangs to the side and opened his eyelid up more with his thumb, shining a light into them that would temporarily blind the other. He repeated this action with his other eye before letting go of his chin and speaking once again into the walkie-talkie while pressing his index and middle finger against his jugular, "He's conscious and vital signs are weak. It seems there's been some amount of regeneration."

"Is that so? It seems we've already made some progress." This voice was smooth, low and taunting. He couldn't place his finger on it but he remembered it from somewhere—not sure how or why, but he had heard before. It probably gave him the same chills as he gotten from it now, "Give him the injection and bring him to me in fifteen at the extraction point."

"Will do, sir."

He now felt his chin getting gripped once again and his head getting tilted to expose more of his neck. Finally having brought up the strength to speak, he stuttered, "Wha-what-"

"You'll be fine kid. We've got you now." The other cut him short before he felt the needle of a syringe in his neck, causing him to gasp, "Just get some rest. You got a long way ahead of you."

Grogginess increased ten-fold as his eyes drooped to a close. He fought for consciousness but he couldn't manage to win—it seemed that whatever the man injected him with was supposed to knock him out, but for how long? What was happening to him? Where was he going to be taken to?

And who was he exactly?

xxx

He awoke with a start, heart racing against his chest and breathing laboured as he sat up. Looking around, he seemed to be in a hospital room lying down on a hospital bed with various wires strapped to his arms and in his nose.

"Ah, I see you're awake."

It was that voice. Smooth, deep and haunting. He stared at the direction it came from to find a man, blonde hair slicked back, clad in black and eyes hidden behind dark sunglasses. He would never forget that smirk—that smug smirk that seemed to be teasing him and amused at the current situation.

"Welcome to your new home, Steven."


End file.
